


In front of the bullet

by Lilac_the_wolf



Series: Killing Mycroft every month of 2021 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Episode Fix-It: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Gen, Killing a character once a month (2021), Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilac_the_wolf/pseuds/Lilac_the_wolf
Summary: It's not Mary who jumped in front of the bullet to protect Sherlock.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Series: Killing Mycroft every month of 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130717
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49
Collections: Killing a character once a month of 2021





	In front of the bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the challenge "Killing a character once a month 2021" by [Dorthea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorthea/pseuds/Dorthea).
> 
> Prompt : "Switching places". For this one there's not much plot, just a view into the thoughts of the character as he dies. Well, at least, Mary lives, right ?

It was as if time had stopped. Norbury had her finger on the trigger, no one could stop her, it was too late. And Sherlock stood motionless in front of her. He had no time to react, even if he moved, the bullet would still hit him. And he looked too surprised to move on time. Maybe the bullet wouldn't kill him. But he couldn't take that risk. It wasn't like anyone else would want to protect Sherlock. It was up to him. Mycroft's legs moved almost against his will, by instinct. He threw himself in front of Sherlock the moment he heard the gun go off. It was as if time was starting again. He collapsed on the ground. At first he felt no pain. Just warmth, spreading from his chest. Then it came, a piercing pain, very close to his heart. The bullet hadn't pierced his heart, he would have died instantly if it had, but it was very close. He inhaled, but when he exhaled he felt the warm liquid flowing from his mouth. At that rate he was probably covered in blood. His new suit was ruined, he thought.

“Mycroft !”

He raised his head. Sherlock had caught him just as he was about to fall and leaned him against the wooden barrier. Mycroft looked up at him. His vision was beginning to blur and he was having trouble concentrating on anything other than his brother leaning over him. He saw him raise his head.

“Call an ambulance !”

He must have been talking to Mary. He heard her footsteps walking away.

“Mycroft, it's going to be all right.”

He could hear Sherlock's voice shaking. He knew very well that it wouldn't be all right, everything wouldn't be all right. Mycroft suddenly felt much calmer, more peaceful. Perhaps it was due to his loss of blood. Sherlock had his hand pressed against his chest, but the blood was still flowing through his brother's fingers.

“I think... it's over...,” he said.

Sherlock looked at him in complete panic.

“No, no, no,” he said.

Sherlock pressed so hard against his chest that it added to his pain. But he didn't say anything, he didn't want his brother to feel guilty.

“The ambulance will get here,” Sherlock said, “and everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.”

Mycroft looked at his face. His whole vision had become blurred, but strangely enough, he could still see his brother's face clearly. Or maybe he was just imagining it. Mycroft was sure that if he closed his eyes he could still see his brother perfectly. It was probably the only face he knew by heart.

“Sherlock,” he whispered.

“Hush, shut up,” Sherlock said in a trembling voice. “You... you're going to lose energy for nothing.”

Mycroft saw tears running down his brother's cheeks.

“Please don't cry... for me...,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock took his hands off his chest for a brief moment. Mycroft saw his brother's look of horror at the sight of his fingers covered in blood. Mycroft closed his eyes. He felt his brother's hands return to his wound.

“Please don't fall asleep,” he said in a pleading voice.

Mycroft opened his eyes again with difficulty.

“I'm here, Sherlock,” he whispered.

“The ambulance is on its way. You shouldn't have done that. I could have...”

Sherlock shouldn't be thinking about that, Mycroft thought. Protecting him was his own choice. He had to put those thoughts out of his brother's mind. Mycroft tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond.

“You have to... take care of my things...”

“What ?” Sherlock sniffed.

“At the Diogenes Club... work, which I haven't finished...”

He didn't even know why he was thinking about it at a time like that. He had never liked to leave work unfinished. He wondered about what would happen to the club when he would no longer be here. He should have prepared something, but stupidly, he had never thought about his death before.

“You'll finish it,” Sherlock said. “Because... because...”

He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't really believe what he was saying anymore. Now he let his tears flow freely down his face. Mycroft could even feel his tears falling on his hands resting on his knees. Or maybe it was just his blood, he wasn't sure.

“I didn't think... you'd cry,” Mycroft whispered.

Even as a child, Sherlock didn't cry often. He had never cried for him anyway. He remembered Sherlock as a child. There were a lot of things he didn't remember. Buried secrets. But Mycroft wouldn't take them to his grave. Sherlock would surely go to his house, and there he would find a telephone number. His train of thought suddenly broke. He felt cold all of a sudden, very cold.

“Sher...”

He couldn't finish his sentence. He had no strength left. Even his brother's face had become blurred. He closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep.

“Mycroft, stay with me, I beg of you.”

He would have liked to open his eyes again, but he couldn't. He opened his mouth. He had to say the last thing he wanted to say. Sherlock needed to know. He couldn't even remember why he'd never told him before.

“I lo...”

He couldn't finish. Instead of words, the last thing that came out of his mouth was blood. His voice had been barely audible, and he wasn't sure if Sherlock had heard or understood it. But he couldn't speak anymore at all. He felt Sherlock pull him close to him, hugging him tightly. He'd given up trying to keep his blood from pouring out. Sherlock had resigned himself.

“No, no, no...,” he whispered.

He wanted to move, to give his brother a hug and tell him everything would be all right. He hated to hear the distress in his voice. But he couldn't. He could hear his brother sobbing, and distant voices calling out to his brother. And then he couldn't hear anything anymore. He wanted to fall asleep. And so he did, sinking into unconsciousness, leaving the world, and his brother, behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you liked it, and as usual, feel free to leave comments :)


End file.
